


To The Victor Goes the Spoils

by iColorWithCrayons



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Divorcee John, Eventual Johnlock, F/M, John and Mary get divorced, Lawyer Moriarty, Lawyer Sherlock, Legal AU, M/M, Sherlock litigates, Things get messy, sorry if that spoiled anything for anyone but I mean are you surprised
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-03-18 20:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3582504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iColorWithCrayons/pseuds/iColorWithCrayons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legal AU. John and Mary are getting divorced. John is desperate to gain custody of their yet to be born child while Mary is desperate to salvage her marriage. Sherlock is a lawyer who is completely uninterested in the entire case until John mentions a flash drive containing the true identity of his ex-wife. Sherlock wants the flash drive, John wants the baby. A deal is worked out. A number of unintended consequences ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_We, John H. Watson and Mary U. Morstan request a formal declaration of divorce. The items to delegate are as follows..._

 

The well-dressed man sitting in front of John - Sherlock Holmes, the best attorney in London - rolled his eyes and tossed the form that John had taken hours to fill out across his desk lazily.

 

"Dull." Mr. Holmes proclaimed, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "Divorces are hardly my area. You might try Lestrade; his office is just a few doors down." 

 

John scowled. "Wait a minute. If you don't do divorces, why did you let me in here and read all of my files?" He was already in a state of perpetual annoyance over the prospect of a divorce looming over his head. Now the divorce lawyer who apparently didn't do divorces was acting like a massive dick.

 

"I was hoping for something a bit more interesting. Perhaps a lingering hatred, a murder or two, anything that might prove to be a bit of a challenge. This is fairly clear-cut. She will get custody of the baby once it is born. You should consider yourself extremely lucky if she doesn't take ownership of your flat and car as well." Mr. Holmes drawled, steepling his hands under his chin thoughtfully. 

 

"If she's going to get all of the stuff  _and_ the baby, how is it not a challenge?" John demanded through gritted teeth. 

 

The attorney shrugged. "It might be a challenge to Lestrade, but it would be one large bore to me. You have the higher salary and the medical training. That makes you more than qualified to gain custody of the child. There. Now your consultation has been worth the fee." 

 

"Mary's got training too," John grumbled unhappily, "She could be a bloody world-class doctor for all I know." Now he was just forcing his problems on the cool, reptilian attorney. It wasn't this man's fault that Mary had lied to him since day one. He shouldn't act as though it was.

 

To his surprise, Mr. Holmes' dark eyebrows shot up. "Why wouldn't you know the extent of her training? Is she very secretive?"

 

Sensing that he had a chance at recapturing Mr. Holmes' attention, John perked up. "She's very secretive. I can't think of one honest thing that she has ever told me. Her name's not even Mary, you know. She just stole someone's name and went along with it."

 

"What's her real name?" Mr. Holmes inquired. 

 

"Hell if I know." John replied with a sigh. "She gave me this flash drive with her initials, but I haven't been able to bring myself to look at it. Don't really want to know how many people she's killed so far. Uh, anyway, I probably shouldn't be unloading all of this on a lawyer. I want custody of the baby, but I don't want to send Mary to jail." John stood up and shuffled towards the door. 

 

"Wait," Mr. Holmes barked loudly, standing up from behind his desk. John turned to look at him inquisitively. "Do you still have the flash drive?"

 

John's fingers twitched towards the flash drive in his pocket. "I'm not giving it to you."

 

"You haven't heard my offer." Mr. Holmes reminded John in an enticing tone. 

 

John shook his head, anger washing over him.

 

"I am not selling out my wife so that your indictment rates look better." He snapped, taking another step towards the door. 

 

"Ex-wife. You might get used to calling her that, given the fact that you're standing in a divorce lawyer's office. Wife or ex-wife, I don't plan on using the files against her. Consider it an extracurricular hobby of mine."

 

"So, what? You're just going to ignore my case and sit around reading Mary's secrets? Yeah, that's not happening."

 

Mr. Holmes rolled his eyes. "What would you say if I offered to take on your case in exchange for the flash drive?"

 

"I'd call you mad. Won't you get audited and thrown into jail if you take my case for nothing but a flash drive?" John asked a bit unsteadily.

 

Mr. Holmes snorted loudly. "I'll call it pro bono work. No harm, no foul. I don't think that you could afford my rates any other way."

 

"How high could your rates possibly be?" John challenged, hoping that he could just pay the attorney and keep the flash drive to mull over for years to come.

 

Mr. Holmes eyed him in amusement for a moment before pulling a piece of paper off of his desk and handing it over to John without a word. John took one look at the rates listed before handing the paper back to Mr. Holmes. Yeah, he couldn't afford that.

 

"You only get the drive if we win." John stated, hoping to gain some kind of leverage. He wasn't too sure that it worked. Judging from the predatory look on Mr. Holmes' face, it had not.

 

"When do we start?" 


	2. Chapter 2

“Make a list of everything that you own and rank them on their importance to you.”

“What?” John inquired.

Mr. Holmes stared back at him, face uncomprehending.

“I am good, but even I can only do so much. You will lose things. I can only promise that you will not lose too many things.” He reminded John.

John shook his head. “That’s not what I’m worried about. I don’t care about material things. I just want custody of the baby.”

Mr. Holmes looked amused and disgusted at the same time. John stared back at him resolutely.

“Custody of the baby is a court case. Delegation of items can be done with or without a judge present. I would like to minimize our time spent in court if at all possible. Much less it certain when a judge comes into play. Therefore, we’re splitting up items first.” Mr. Holmes explained matter-of-factly.

“Right,” John muttered, mostly to himself, “So when you say ‘everything you own’...”

“I mean everything. We’re at a bit of a disadvantage as it is; you don’t truly know Mary and therefore, you don’t know what it is that she’ll want. If objects are truly unimportant to you, mark them as such. Just avoid leaving room for any surprise or confusion during the negotiations.” Mr. Holmes instructed.

“I knew I should have let her keep the flat.” John grumbled as he set to work making a list.

* * *

“That’s it?” Mr. Holmes inquired once John submitted a rather pathetic list of belongings with even more rankings of their importance.

“Yeah.” John replied in what he hoped was an assertive tone.

“You listed your books as being more important than your computer...was that a mistake?”

“No,” John wasn’t quite sure why he was so wary of Mr. Holmes’ judgement, “That’s, er, that’s right. Those books mean a bit more to me than a hunk of metal. Besides, it will be a great excuse to put my blog out of its misery.”

“You have a blog?” Mr. Holmes’ posture straightened and his voice was harsh. John jumped in his seat and looked at the attorney nervously.

“Yeah, my therapist - I mean…”

Mr. Holmes let out an impatient huff. “I already know about the therapist. With a psychosomatic limp and a pending divorce, it is really no wonder. I’ll need to meet her at some point, but I don’t see her posing any serious threat to your case. Patient confidentiality is certainly an advantage of ours. This blog of yours, however, becomes open game the moment that we mention anything even remotely related to one of your entries. Does Mary know about your blog?”

“Yeah. You don’t think that…”

“It’s going to be a problem, yes. We have to assume that Moriarty will bring it into play.”

“Moriarty?” John echoed.

“Mary’s lawyer. An up and comer who has been eager for a case opposing me for years. I knew that he would jump at the opportunity to represent Mary the moment that she approached his firm. Now, about this blog of yours. I will need a printed copy of it no later than midnight tomorrow.” Mr. Holmes stated briskly, placing John’s list in a folder and shoving it into his desk carelessly.

“Midnight as in a few hours, or…” John glanced down at his watch and wondered if he had enough time to go back to the hotel that he was staying at, print out his entire blog, and return to Mr. Holmes’ office before midnight.

Mr. Holmes let out an annoyed huff. “Not tonight, tomorrow. Your meeting with Mary and Moriarty is in four days. I doubt they’ll bring up the blog for something trivial such as a television or a car, but Moriarty is desperate to prove himself. I’d like to be prepared for anything that he might throw our way. For now, go home, get some rest, and do not blog about this meeting.”

John was more than happy to oblige.

* * *

At eleven forty-three pm, John arrived at Mr. Holmes’ office building. His usual assistant was gone, so John simply proceeded towards Mr. Holmes’ office.

“Who’re you?” A young woman demanded, standing up from a cubicle in the middle of the office and eying John suspiciously.

“Oh, uh, I’m, er, a client.” John stammered awkwardly.

“No clients in the office past ten. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.” The woman informed him, folding her arms across her chest.

John’s face burned in embarrassment. He didn’t want to cause any trouble, but Mr. Holmes had given him a deadline; a deadline that could affect the outcome of his divorce and ultimately the custody of his child.

“No, I, er, Mr. Holmes said that -”

“Ah, John,” Mr. Holmes’ voice rumbled from a few feet away. John and the woman both looked up and saw Mr. Holmes leaning against his office doorframe. “I know that I said no later than midnight, but I did expect you a bit earlier than this. No matter. Sally, thank you for your concern, but John is harmless. John, come along.”

John eagerly followed Mr. Holmes, casting Sally an apologetic look as he walked by. Sally glared back at him and muttered something under her breath.

“So,” Mr. Holmes began, shutting his office door behind John, “You have your blog for me?”

“I do.” John handed over the large stack of papers he had printed during his lunch break. “You know, you can read the blog online instead of printing everything out.”

“I do know that, as a matter of fact. I have already read your blog, I just needed a physical copy to mark and use in court.” Mr. Holmes smirked, plopping the printed blog on his desk and pulling a highlighter out of his desk drawer.

“Oi,” John murmured suspiciously, “What did you need me for, then? Couldn’t you just ask an intern to print a copy?”

“I could, but I had a few questions to ask you, anyway. It only made sense to have you bring the blog along to reference. Now that I have both you and the blog here, let’s get started. Your sister, Harry. She comments on a number of your posts and is mentioned every once in a while. What is your relationship with Harry like?”

John winced. “I’d rather not answer that question.”

“I figured that would be your answer. Unfortunately, you don’t have the luxury of choosing which questions you want to answer in a custody case. If you want the child, you are going to have to answer a great deal of questioned that you won’t like.”

John glared at Mr. Holmes. Mr. Holmes stared back at him calmly.

“Fine,” John grumbled, “We barely have a relationship. Haven’t since we were kids. Dad died early, mum was too busy keeping food on the table to pay us much mind, so Harry took up drinking for comfort. She’s been drunk ever since.”

“And where did you seek comfort?” Mr. Holmes asked.

“Excuse me?” John hadn’t expected Mr. Holmes to consider his own past response to a lack of parenting.

“How did you respond to your father’s death and your mother’s absence? I will have to establish your character somehow, and if Mary knows about your childhood, I must know it as well. I don’t like secrets and I loathe surprises in the courtroom.”

John hesitated.

“I started swearing.”

Mr. Holmes watched John for a minute. John couldn’t tell whether the attorney believed him or not. He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” John echoed questioningly.

“Fine. I see no other negative quirks and faults that might be attributed to being raised by a single mother. When did your father die?” Mr. Holmes asked.

“When I was four.” John supplied automatically.

“And Harry is how much older than you?”

“Five years.”

“She couldn’t have started drinking at nine years old. When did that begin?”

“Around fifteen or sixteen. Some of her friends slipped vodka in the punch at a school dance and she got a taste for it.”

“When and how did your mother die?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” John complained.

Mr. Holmes shrugged. “Partial curiosity, partial character building.”

John glared at Mr. Holmes. Mr. Holmes stared back at John calmly.

“She died when I was twenty-six. Heart attack.”

“Ah. So she was a fixture in your life well into your adult years. Good.” Mr. Holmes eyed John for a moment before picking up a pen and scribbling something on the notepad sitting in front of him.

“What about you?” John asked, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. “Have you ever lost a parent?”

“Erm, no. Both of my parents are still alive, I’m happy to say. Now, ah -”

“Do you think that it makes a difference?” John interrupted.

“Do I think that what makes a difference?” Mr. Holmes asked, looking noticeably confused.

“Being raised by a single parent. Do you think that it really makes a difference in where a person ends up?”

Mr. Holmes didn’t even have to take a moment to think about John’s question.

“Absolutely.”

John was taken aback by Mr. Holmes’ honesty. Most people would have the decency to lie and tell him that he would have been the same with or without both parents.

“I, uh, what do you mean?” John questioned.

“Absolutely; I think that being raised by a single parent certainly makes a difference, especially in your case. I am assuming that it was your lack of a parental figure that triggered your almost manic sense of compassion. You joined a profession in which you are constantly taking care of others, you held a high rank in the military in which you were personally responsible for the care of others, you were shot in the shoulder while attending to a soldier who was not one of your men, you married a woman that you blindly trusted for three years, and now you are willing to gamble away everything that you own to gain custody of a baby that you have yet to meet. I have to believe that being the product of a single parent played a hand in all of that.”

John looked at Mr. Holmes in surprise.

“How did you know about the military? That wasn’t in the file.”

“No, it wasn’t. I had to phone one of my contacts in the government to get a bit more information on you. I told you, I don’t like surprises. Why didn’t you tell me about your military experience? It could help your case.” Mr. Holmes didn’t seem angry, oddly enough. He just looked curious.

John shrugged sullenly. “I just want to forget about it.”

Mr. Holmes stared back at John for a moment before nodding. “All right. The military experience is off of the table. I won’t bring it up until Moriarty does. Now, why don’t you tell me a bit more about Harry. Did your mother treat you two differently from one another?”

* * *

Mr. Holmes had a lot of questions. The next time that John looked at his watch, it was nearly three in the morning. John’s stomach growled; it had been a few hours since John had eaten anything. Worse still, Mr. Holmes was _still_ asking questions.

“Uh…” John murmured, interrupting Mr. Holmes' rapid-fire questions, “D’you mind if I get going? I really need to eat.”

Mr. Holmes glanced at his phone and looked a bit surprised. Apparently he hadn’t noticed the time flying while he asked thousands of questions.

“I’m sorry, John. I have to wrap up all of the details about your blog tonight if I’m going to stay on schedule. Come along; I know a place where you can eat and I can work.”

That was how John found himself sitting at a run-down fast food restaurant eating the best burger that he had ever tasted.

Mr. Holmes hadn’t ordered anything - he claimed that he didn’t eat while on a case - so he was sitting across the booth from John, continuing with his absurdly long list of questions.

“You wrote that you hated having a limp because you felt limited. What exactly did you mean by that?”

John wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I thought that the military stuff was off limits.”

“It is,” Mr. Holmes replied immediately, “but your limp isn’t. Your limp is a challenge. Raising a child is also a challenge. It will be important to establish how you cope with challenges in court.”

John sighed before taking another large bite out of his burger. Christ, that was a good burger. He would have to get another one before he left.

“John.” Mr. Holmes persisted in an exasperated tone.

John glanced at him and swallowed hard. “Yes, it was a challenge. Yes, I hated every moment of it. But I’m starting to get better. I’m handling it.”

“Yes,” Mr. Holmes mused with a faint smile, “You are. But you might think about phrasing it a bit better in court.”

“We can’t all be silver-tongued, Mr. Holmes.”

“Sherlock, please.”

John smirked slightly.

“Sherlock.” He allowed.

Was it normal to be on first-name terms with one’s divorce lawyer?

Sherlock’s eyebrows suddenly furrowed. He cleared his throat and looked down at John’s printed blog.

“Why don’t you tell me more about your marriage with Mary?”

 


	3. Chapter 3

# Chapter Three

John met Sherlock in front of the office of James Moriarty at seven in the morning on the dot. He was wearing the suit that he hated with a list of notes from Sherlock jabbing him through his pocket.

“Good morning, John. Are you ready to lose everything that you own?” Sherlock’s deep voice rumbled from behind John.

John turned around to look at Sherlock. Oh, god that was a mistake. Sherlock looked great.

Granted, Sherlock had always looked good, but this was another level. His clothes were tighter, his eyes were brighter, and his hair was somehow curlier. John fidgeted and averted his eyes in an effort to salvage his pride. This was his divorce lawyer, for Christ’s sake.

“Ah, Mr. Holmes,” A sickeningly sweet Irish voice cooed, drawing Sherlock’s attention away from John.

“Jim,” Sherlock acknowledged the man that must have been James Moriarty, “You’ve changed offices.”

John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock. He thought that Sherlock had never met Moriarty before.

“I have,” Jim agreed, staring up at Sherlock with admiration, “I moved once I made partner. It’s still not quite as big as I’d like it to be, but you know how it is. Someone with the bigger office has got to leave first.”

“No; I don’t know how that is. It seems that the biggest office in my firm was conveniently vacant the moment I asked for it.” Sherlock responded smugly. God, it was good to be on Sherlock’s team.

Jim’s smile didn’t falter. “Well, we can’t all be as…” He batted his eyelashes and stared at Sherlock as though he had never seen anyone quite so magnificent, “ _Convincing_ as you are.”

“Mm, that’s why I’m currently ranked as the most successful attorney in London.” Sherlock said with a smirk.

“For now.” Jim agreed, his voice bordering on threatening. “I suppose we had better begin negotiating, shouldn’t we?”

About bloody time.

“After you.” Sherlock insisted, gesturing for Jim to enter the office first. Jim beamed at Sherlock before sauntering into his office.

John started to enter the office after Jim, but Sherlock placed a heavy hand on John’s shoulder, effectively stopping him. John looked down at the hand, his mind melting into a pile of sludge from the absurdly platonic contact.

“This is the first time that you’re seeing Mary in a while, isn’t it?” Sherlock demanded, his voice low and commanding. John could only nod stupidly.

“Are you absolutely certain that you can manage to remain in the same room with her without bickering or staging some sort of reunion? I don’t care what you do in your personal life, but when it comes to your relationship with Mary, I am now in control. If you don’t think that you can handle that, give me the word and I will reschedule with Moriarty. Whatever you decide is perfectly fine, but I will not tolerate any surprises. Is that understood?” Sherlock’s voice was a low growl now. John could hardly focus on the words.

“Y-yeah, I...’m fine.” He choked out, unable to break eye contact with Sherlock. Sherlock looked him over for a minute before nodding.

“Very well,” He purred, his mouth curving into something that almost resembled a smile. “Into battle we go.”

* * *

The results were these:

** Items Awarded to John H. Watson: **

**All first edition books**

**All Military Memorabilia (John had not wanted this, but Sherlock had gotten it all the same)**

**Ownership of the red bike in the garage**

**The slightly larger television from the living room**

**The worn leather chair from the living room**

**The password to the Netflix subscription**

**The photo albums from the Watsons’ honeymoon**

**The mini bar and all its contents (Sherlock didn’t seem too keen for John to have this)**

**Half of the Watsons’ joint bank account**

**The contents of John Watson’s closet, clothes and misc. items alike**

**All of the DVDs on the third tier of the living room shelf**

 

** Items Awarded to Mary Morstan: **

**Ownership of the 2013 Honda Civic**

**Ownership of the Watsons’ flat (It was under John’s name and John would have to pay the rent for two more months - Sherlock had been outraged by the request, but John had agreed to it)**

**The smaller television from the Watsons’ bedroom**

**The Watsons’ computer (it was actually John’s computer, but he let Sherlock do the talking)**

**Half of the Watsons’ bank account**

**All of the DVDs on the second tier of the living room shelf**

**The password to John’s blog (Sherlock grit his teeth the moment that request was made)**

**Everything remaining in the flat beyond the date of John Watson’s eviction**

It wasn’t much, but it was already much more than John had been hoping for. Judging from the look on Mary’s face when the negotiations were through, he had been given much more than she had expected, as well. John had no idea whether or not Sherlock was pleased with the way that the negotiations had gone - his face was as unreadable as always.

“Well, then.” Sherlock remarked as soon as the proper forms were filled out and signed. “I suppose that we’re all done here. Ms. Morstan, I will see you in court. Jim, always a pleasure.” He shook Mary and Moriarty’s hands while sporting an overly cheerful smile before nodding at John and exiting the conference room. John turned to watch Sherlock go before bumbling through a few final words of his own (though he couldn’t exactly remember what they were) and following after his unfortunately handsome attorney.

“There you are. You didn’t say anything to Mary, did you? The last thing that I need is for you to undermine me when I’ve just gotten you everything that you wanted.” Sherlock snarled the moment that John emerged from the conference room. John looked at Sherlock in surprise and shook his head hastily.

“No, I, uh, I don’t think I said more than two words to her. I, er, I’m sorry. Did you think that went well?” John asked, trotting after Sherlock as he strode down the hallway.

“Didn’t you?” Sherlock glanced at John critically.

“I, uh, I don’t know. Mary got the flat _and_ the car…”

“Yes, and you got everything that you deemed ‘important’ on your list.”

“And all of my military shit. Why did you want me to have that, again?”

“I just thought you might want it.”

“I didn’t mark it on my list. I intentionally didn’t mark it on my list.”

“Well, I’m not a mind reader, John.”

John looked at him curiously but decided against commenting. Instead, he focused on the fact that he would have to see Mary in court just a few days later.

He couldn’t lie to himself: seeing Mary in the conference room had been difficult. Her small and almost apologetic smile brought up so many memories - happy memories that were now tainted by the mixture of pain and hate that seemed to threaten to overwhelm John at all times. He spent the majority of the meeting wondering who Mary really was. He really had no idea. He knew more about his divorce attorney than he did about his ex-wife.

His divorce attorney.

John looked up at Sherlock and felt his heart shudder in that strange combination of attraction and dread that had been tormenting him for days now. He was handsome, brilliant, and domineering in exactly the right way, but he was John’s divorce attorney. John was still technically married, for Christ’s sake. He had no business getting involved with anyone.

Not that Sherlock would ever agree to go out with him, of course. Even if Sherlock was into men, he could obviously do much better. He was wealthy, he was devastatingly handsome, and he was a genius. He probably had some Greek goddess of a girlfriend waiting for him in every major city in England.

“John?” Sherlock’s impatient voice cut through John’s thoughts. John looked up at him curiously.

Sherlock let out an impatient sigh and rolled his eyes. “Try to keep up, would you? We need to begin coming up with your case for the child. I hope that you don’t have any obligations this evening.”

“Nope. None. Free as a bird. Free. As. A. Bird.” John rambled awkwardly. “Don’t you have anything to do? I mean, you’ve been working on this case every night...doesn’t your, erm, girlfriend, miss you?”

“Girlfriend? I don’t - ah.” Sherlock smiled a bit bashfully and turned away from John. “John, I’m flattered, but I-”

“Oh, no, it’s not, I don’t…” John shook his head violently, not wanting to hear a rejection so soon after his failed marriage. Sherlock seemed to understand and immediately dropped the subject.

“Did you want to go straight back to my office or meet me there later? I understand that seeing Mary again might have been difficult for you and I -”

“I’m fine.” John wondered if either of them were going to let the other make it through a single sentence that evening. “The work distracts me from it all. I’d really like to work on the case tonight if you don’t have anything else on.”

“Very well. Let’s pick up a bit of dinner and get started, shall we?”


End file.
